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Monday, June 1, 2009

Ryan and I have an agreement -- I take care of things on the inside, and he takes care of things on the outside. Yes, yes, I realize that it is a very 1950's division of labor, and that Gloria Steinem will bitch slap me if we ever meet, but it's really the best situation for us. Ryan hates vacuuming and the smell of lemon pledge, and nothing makes me more uncomfortable than dirt in my shoes or under my nails. We really only trade off on two things: laundry (which Ryan has insisted on doing ever since I magically made a load of his shirts two sizes smaller and pink using just hot water and a red rag), and insect removal (because I like bugs).When I say "I like bugs" I am not talking in a weird, little kid, entomologist kind of way. I don't have a collection of potato bugs munching on leaves in a jar in my kitchen, and I don't have to identify the species and genus of every creepy crawlie around me. I like them in the whole "I wouldn't want to be squished either" way. I figure, if they aren't harming me, I shouldn't be harming them. I mean, unless they are box elder bugs, and then they are SO DEAD! Little fuckers, thinking they can just take over my house, I'll show them! Sorry, digression. Ryan is more of a "kill 'em all" person when it comes to insect control, so you can see why I like to get to them first, if for no other reason than to keep our karma in tact. Of course, before this weekend I had never come up against something like this...

Yep, that's a wasp's nest, right on my front porch. Of course, wasps are nothing new around our house, since the fruit trees make it a paradise for them. We've even had to deal with their dwellings before, but they have been of the much smaller, apartment home variety.See, those are easy to deal with. You can see if there are any wasps in them, and act accordingly. However, with a nest you can't be sure if anyone is home, or if they are going to come out and sting you to death when you knock on the door. Ryan said I shouldn't worry about it, that he would get some spray, which immediately made me put any fear aside and try and get rid of the nest humanely. After all, if Jesus is currently reincarnated as a wasp I would rather he be mad at me for making him homeless, than ending his life.

Saturday night when Ryan went out, I went to work. I put on jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a hat, and sunglasses. Then I tied a bandanna across my face, and grabbed the broom. I looked like I was from the Eazy E cleaning service, but I didn't care, it was wasp moving day.

I wish I could tell you it was all dramatic, but really, the only interesting thing was my outfit. I walked out on the porch. I knocked the nest down. One wasp flew out, and very anxiously and angrily flew around before taking off. I was sure he would be coming back with reinforcements, but I think he just found another place to live. A couple hours later I went out and sprayed the area with liquid soap to keep the wasp from rebuilding (thanks Mom!), picked up the nest and put it in a plastic bag so Amaya can take it to school. Dullsville.

Now the only thing I have to deal with are the ants on the sidewalk. Not nearly as exciting... I mean, unless radioactivity somehow makes them super ants. But that probably won't happen.

While cleaning up our campsite on Sunday, I sprayed the crap out of a breed of radioactively grown super ants. Seriously, the kind where their pincers can squish your head better than The Kids in the Hall.

It was only today that I felt a little guilty about it. They were like 50 yards away from where anyone actually ever goes. In the forest. My bad.

I can tolerate anything but slugs. And I can't kill them because a squished slug is even worse than a live slug. I'm creeping out just thinking about them. Good job on your peaceful wasp removal. I'm sure they came back and were only slightly annoyed.

We had cicada killer wasps at my old house who would return every spring. They burrow and build nests underground and love to dive-bomb people's heads for fun. Also, they are the size of a Volkswagon Bettle.

Not. Fun. Especially when you have 2 screaming kids who can climb mommy Cirque Du Soleil-style and wrap their legs completely around your head.

We had so many spiders in our house when we first moved in it actually CURED my arachnophobia. It was either deal or completely lose it. I am the official spider and bug relocation specialist in my house. No one else will even go near this stuff. Wimps.

That is one huge nest. Since I am allergic to wasps, I think, John is our resident insect hit man. Of course someone told me if you draw a line of chalk, an ant will not cross it. I tried this with Sprite's sidewalk chalk and it did not work. In fact, I think the ants cheered when I drew a purple reinforcement line.

Dude, I will sooo give you all of my apple strudel if you come kill wasps at my house.

Pro tip: if you wait until it's dark, all the wasps will be in the hive and you can spray it and kill them all. If you destroy the hive during the day, when the wasps come home at night, they will just start building another one in the same spot. How do I know this? I once had a torrid affair with a pest control guy. True story.

Is your porch made of marshmellow paste?! Because that looks pretty marshmellowy. Also, the word verification is telling me to take a "pentepoo" and I'm not really sure what a "pentepoo" is and what relevance it has to this here blog post but I just figured I should tell you your things telling me to poo.